


Be All, End All

by lucitae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/lucitae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about struggle in another world much more magical than our own: Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be All, End All

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what happens after watching Thor 2 for the first time and being far too obsessed with your otp. As a disclaimer, this has nothing to do with the movie and inaccuracies are bound to occur because the only mythology I can write about without being wrong is Greek. Actually, to be honest the only thing that is ‘Asgardian’ about this is the name of the place and that's about it. Sorry for the misleading tags and summary. Further apologies for this unbeta'd madness.
> 
> Dedicated to [ryeowookie](http://ryeowookie.tumblr.com/) because of indulging me with talks of [skinship](http://ryeowookie.tumblr.com/post/71420908279/so-i-was-staring-at-your-gif-of-krisoo-in-the-preview). Unfortunately, subtlety cannot be transcribed into words.

 

> _This love is be and end all_ _  
> This love will be your downfall_
> 
> _\- This Love (Will Be Your Downfall) Ellie Goulding_

“Nice shot.” The voice echoes through the valley and Kyungsoo watches with a sad heart as his prey disperse and run away.

“For god’s sake,” unable to keep the annoyance out of his tone, “shut up.”

“I _am_ a god,” flashing his far too bright teeth in Kyungsoo’s direction, arms stretching upwards to demonstrate his divine qualities. Kyungsoo responds by whacking the back of his hand into his friend’s stomach. Chanyeol grunts once but it is enough for him to cease such a foolish act, opting to clutch his stomach instead.

“Not in this realm,” reminds a voice gently. The owner of the voice casts shadows upon the both of them and Kyungsoo does not need to turn to know whom it belongs to.

He turns around anyways and drops to his knees, eyes downcast. He dares not look for the golden head may blind him but chooses to study the way the blades of grass bend to the wind or lack thereof. “Your highness,” he addresses and Chanyeol echoes his behavior and words.

“You need not to address me as such, Kyungsoo.” He can note the amusement in the godhead’s voice and dares a glance. It is an expression he is familiar with, one that shines as bright as the sun casting shadows on this handsome face, the one with all gums and teeth revealed. Apparently, no soul has ever dared remark on how ugly it makes him look.

Behind him, he can hear Chanyeol get up from his position, the rustle of his robes as he dusts himself off. “Good,” his friend remarks, “I was getting tired of kneeling.”

Kyungsoo suppresses the urge to roll his eyes and follows suit, only to grind his heel into Chanyeol’s toes, satisfied when he listens to the yelp that ensues. “He meant me.”

Protests die on Chanyeol’s tongue as he straightens quickly to the twinkle in the sovereign one’s eyes. A good thing his friend is not too dumb to notice such things.

“You must have a reason to visit,” addressing the one with most authority, “Yifan.”

“Must I?” the other questions and Chanyeol takes that as a cue to leave with a respectable bow.

“We are on-“

“leave, I know.” The smile is starting to infuriate Kyungsoo at this point. Yifan is seemingly carefree of all his duties. As if he has sensed the tension building up in Kyungsoo’s small frame, he continues: “But it is important for warriors to maintain their prowess so they have suggested a match.”

A sigh slips from Kyungsoo’s lips, knowing full well that a prince can do nothing to change a council’s decision. Besides, these are the rules. He grips the bow a bit tighter. As if reading Kyungsoo’s thoughts, the future king responds, “So too will I partake in these games.”

“So be it,” is his response before he follows his friend back to his palace.

 

A crowd has gathered to watch: family, friends, and civilians of Asgard. Kyungsoo only hopes that Joonmyeon will keep an eye on his bow and arrow. Away from children and other individuals that will induce harm upon it. It is a good thing he trusts his brother otherwise he would be too distracted to focus on the task ahead of him. His luck has him matched with Zitao; a friend, but not one to let such trivial details compromise his pride and duty.

The crowd cheers when their future king has defeated Luhan, a warrior known just as much for his looks as for his strength in the battlefield, bowing slightly before heading off stage. Yifan dips his head at the crowd and slides his rapier back to its place, walking off with a head held high and a smile for all to see.

That is Kyungsoo’s cue for his battle. His preference for midrange weapons is forbidden in the arena. But he was trained to be a warrior, one of the elite; hence dependence on one weapon is forbidden. He chooses carefully, allowing his fingers to slide across the metal before picking a rapier, not as fancy as Yifan’s but will do. He hefts it in his hand once, testing the weight before finding it acceptable. The other hand pulls at his belt for his dagger, he brandishes it for the sake of the crowd.

\--

Asgardians keep the peace of all nine realms and hence important for females and males to learn the art of war- at least that of defense. Kyungsoo is twelve when he is unceremoniously shoved into a room of peers awaiting the same fate. They snicker at the sight of him because at twelve he has the dwarfed frame that accompanies him through life. He does grow taller, but not noticeably so when compared to his peers. He clenches his fingers and wills himself to keep the peace. _Let them think what they will_ , he tells himself. He does not wish to dishonor his family for petty reasons.

They toss him a mid-section of some weapon and Kyungsoo grunts and falters as he tries to steady himself under its weight. Upon contact, it lengthens to reveal a double-sided spear, deadly on each tip. He struggles to balance this evil weapon without piercing his own foot, blocking out the snide remarks about how he is _as weak as he looks_. The other individuals clamor over themselves to fight over the best weapons: axes, swords, hammers, and the like. Kyungsoo makes his way out in order to protect others from his own weapon, slightly grateful that he doesn’t have to fight for a weapon; it would cause some serious reports. It doesn’t take long before they are done and shove him out, pushing him towards the training area where older students are going to help the younger ones. There are hoots and hollers when he feels a large hand on his back, pushing him towards the ground as if to make him eat the dust, he rolls and stops when his side hits someone’s foot. They are leather and black and far too polished. Kyungsoo braces himself before getting on his feet and brushing all the disgusting sand off of himself.

They continue shouting, jeering because they are pleased with how they landed the lamest individual right at the foot of the princeling. They are sure they will be in for a show, one where the lamest individual gets beat up by a powerful one. Except they all have the wrong notions about the princeling’s personality.

He’s tall. Kyungsoo has to tilt his head a bit backwards in order to meet the other’s eyes, the other’s status completely oblivious to the young boy. He clenches his teeth as his hands clench around the weapon. He brandishes it, trying to let his red cheeks cool off. The other shows nothing, keeping his face controlled and emotionless. Kyungsoo misreads the tight jaws as disdain for being paired up with a weakling. His hair is blonde and distracting in the sunlight but it isn’t really time for such thoughts.

The older one bows first and Kyungsoo follows suit. The blonde one finally brandishes his own rapier with ease and Kyungsoo does not calculate the intricacies of the hilt as the indication of nobility. It gets filed away as unimportant details by his brain. The other one moves in far too quickly, blocking off view from the crowd trying to see how the princeling will disgrace this small creature. But instead of knocking Kyungsoo’s weapon out of his hand, he closes in to whisper in the younger man’s ears, “Are you content with this?”

Kyungsoo’s head snaps up, brows furrowing at the implication of such a question. What could the other possibly mean? The blonde boy merely nods at the unbalanced weapon in Kyungsoo’s grip and then at the crowd surrounding them.

_Is he content playing the part of the fool for the entertainment of the crowd?_

“No,” it comes out as a growl that erupts from the base of his throat. There is a hint of a smile that dance on the older boy’s lips and a twinkle of his eyes before he backs off, giving Kyungsoo another chance.

It really is unnecessary, because the next time he closes in, the weapon is easily ripped out of Kyungsoo’s grasp. The crowd laughs and Kyungsoo’s ears turn red from embarrassment.

“Use your physique to your advantage.” A dagger drops into the range of his eyesight. Kyungsoo rolls away to snatch it up, rage coursing through his veins for being made an example of. His fingers tighten as he grips the dagger, enclosing in on the larger male as the other easily parries Kyungsoo’s attempts.

“Being small is not necessarily a bad thing,” the words come in whispers and gasps although the blond boy does not seem to be exerting any effort. “You can get in close and attack the more vulnerable areas.”

Kyungsoo does not understand why the other male is grinning. It only infuriates him more. So he rolls in close and tight and nearly scratches the taller male’s skin before he leaps out of the way. The crowd gasps but it falls on deaf ears as the center leads circle each other as if preparing for their next dance.

Being the more rash and illogical one, Kyungsoo charges in first. He quickly learns not to do so when the hilt of the rapier strikes the center of his back, sending him forward. He curls into a ball and rolls before bracing himself for the second launch.

The crowd cannot believe their eyes at how even the match is. At least more than they expected it would be. The puny creature had managed to duck and strike again and again because of his small size and agility. Although the princeling had seemed at ease in the beginning, he was now starting to break a sweat.

Kyungsoo catches a pause in the other’s pace and seizes his chance, slicing the blade at the other’s ankle. The other twists out of the way before serious damage can be done but still nicks skin, drawing the golden blood of the gods out of the princeling’s veins. A laugh slips out from the golden boy’s lips but it is quickly drowned out by stomping feet of soldiers dressed in the gold plates of the Royal Army enclosing upon Kyungsoo.

“That is the son of Kuohui!” Kyungsoo’s face pales when he hears the name of their ruler. The dagger drops and stirs up a tiny storm at his feet.

“He did not know,” the son of Kuohui says, defending the boy who had just tried to harm him. “Forgive him.” The future king commands so who are they to disobey. The crowd disperses with quiet whisperings of what the small creature has done.

 

Kyungsoo has picked up the dagger from the spot he had dropped it but the prince has long gone, ushered away by his guards. He did not know. If he had, he probably would have surrendered. Now it made sense at why the individuals had been so stirred up about the fight. His jaw tightens when he realizes what role he was going to play. It is a miracle in their eyes that he is relatively unscathed spare for the bruises blossoming over his skin.

His brother had been horrified upon knowing what Kyungsoo has done but promises to talk to the prince for forgiveness. It was an act of treason and Kyungsoo could have well lost his life via blade or in chains. Joonmyeon has known the future king because of their close age and Kyungsoo digs for information. He needs to return the blade to its rightful owner.

Which is why he is currently on the outskirts of the main hub of the city, far from the palace and near the green meadows tucked away from nosy individuals. He treads carefully, wary of his surroundings. It is beautiful and he wonders why he does not frequent this place often. The grass stands tall and proud and everything seems to be alive. Creatures mill about their daily business and the blades of grass flux under the will of the wind, basking in the sun’s warmth.

It is not hard to spot the godhead here. The golden strands of hair give him away. It is even more brilliant when contrasted against green rather than the dull brown and yellows of the training grounds.

Kyungsoo looms over the other individual and holds out the dagger, clearly polished since the last use so that each carving is as beautiful as when it was forged. When the other has no indication of taking it, Kyungsoo lets it fall from his grip. The princeling has good reflexes and snatches it before it can do any damage. A chuckle slips from his lips as he allows himself to relax and sink back into the grass again.

“I thought you had learned your lesson last time.”

Kyungsoo fights the heat that tries to creep up his cheeks. “Apparently not,” he retorts and it earns him another grin. But looking back it had been quite an improper way to greeting so he dips his head, causing the prince to raise his hand to block out the sudden rays of sun in his face, and introduces himself: “Do Kyungsoo, your highness.”

“You can call me Yifan.” Kyungsoo arches a brow and the other continues, “I have no love for formal addresses. Besides, I do believe we have breached that point.” Mischief is laced in the curve of his lips.

“Yifan,” Kyungsoo tests the name on his tongue and the prince nods in approval.

“Keep the blade.”

“It is yours,” steeling his nerves for refusal, “I-“

“do not need it? Perhaps. But it was a gift.” And Kyungsoo finds it infuriating the way the other wishes to not be seen as prince yet has commands in his speech regardless. “It will do you good.”

“I can choose my own weapons,” Kyungsoo grits his teeth as he spits out these words.

“Clearly not.” And Kyungsoo tries his best not to scratch that smirk off the other’s face. “A lighter blade will do you good. Try a rapier next time.” Yifan suddenly sits up as if a thought had stricken him. He takes a glance at Kyungsoo and then resumes to grin broadly. “Or try a different set of weapons because spears clearly do you no good,” appraising Kyungsoo with his eyes.

“Come,” the prince beckons and Kyungsoo can only follow.

 

Yifan strolls through the weaponry and the guards at the gate shift uncomfortably, unsure of why there is a scrawny kid in tow. One they are not familiar with. The prince picks at the weapons lined on the wall, clearly engrossed with the idea of the little boy and archery as he tests each bow and selects skillfully crafted arrows. He settles for a wooden composite bow and holds it out for Kyungsoo to take. The younger male has long given up on refusing the prince and takes it. It is surprisingly light and he pulls it with ease.

“I do not-“ Kyungsoo starts but is silenced by a hand.

“I will teach you.” Despite being tired of interruption, the younger male forgives Yifan upon seeing that smile.

 

They make their way back to the meadows, guards silenced by one stare from the godling. Kyungsoo is too used to enveloping smiles that he forgets the image of the prince is a cold one. He soon forgets again as the other engages him in small talk, introducing more aspects of his life as they make their way to Yifan’s hiding place.

“It gives me a room to breathe,” the other had said.

There is more gait to his walk the closer they get and his voice gets more animated as he narrates the buildings they pass by. _My grandfather made this_ or _My dad designed this_. Kyungsoo keeps up with labored breaths and polite nods at the right spot, glad he does not need to reply.

When they finally set foot upon the soft grass, Kyungsoo has the urge to collapse and take a long nap right then and there spare for the increasingly annoying voice that tells him to straighten himself. His feet gets kicked so that they spread themselves shoulder length and Yifan fusses over posture, thumping Kyungsoo hard on the back telling him to straighten his shoulders.

“I would never have taken you to be the brother of Joonmyeon. Your posture is terrible,” the other exclaims at some point and Kyungsoo wills himself to be as immobile as stone.

But soon it comes to finally being able to test out the weapon. The younger boy has his doubts but it is easier than brandishing that two headed spear. Then again, after that trial almost anything is easier.

Yifan’s fingers are upon Kyungsoo’s to guide him in the ways archery. Kyungsoo flinches when he feels the other’s chest along his back. He is not used to close contact with other beings, princely or not. The other seems not to care as he pulls Kyungsoo’s right arm back, narrating the reasons and the process.

“See that?” he whispers into Kyungsoo’s ears, it tickles but he dares not express it. The prince points at a tree a few yards a head. Kyungsoo nods because he has no idea what else he can do in such a situation.

“Now lift your arms, like this,” demonstrating by using the younger male as his personal puppet. “This will allow the arrow to land where you wish it to go.” No further explanations are supplied and Kyungsoo lets the arrow fly when instructed to. It lands and Yifan grins his signature - what Kyungsoo has deemed to be his signature - smile.

“Try it again.” Kyungsoo does. This time it splits the previous arrow right down the middle even though the younger male has slightly shifted from his previous position. The expression on the future king’s face is priceless.

“Try that,” Yifan says after coming to his senses, pointing at a flock of birds in the sky. Kyungsoo frowns, not quite willing to shed his first innocent blood yet. “We will see for its soul afterwards,” the prince ensures as if reading Kyungsoo’s mind. The younger male starts to wonder if his expressions are giving him away even though Joonmyeon has, on multiple occasions, expressed his anguish at how unreadable his younger brother is.

Kyungsoo lets another arrow fly and a bird drops from the skies and plunges into the waters. He closes his eyes and whispers a prayer for the passage of a soul. The prince does the same.

But when it ends he finds himself staring at a smile as bright as the sun above.

“What are you grinning for?” the remark makes its way out of Kyungsoo’s mouth before he can stop himself.

“I have discovered talent.”

“It is not you who has to hone it,” Kyungsoo grumbles for the sake of it but relents when he catches that grin again.

That day he learns of the three year gap between himself and the prince and of weapons that could make him into a warrior.

\--

Zitao follows Kyungsoo's lead but earns a few more enthusiastic hollers from the crowd. It is not unearned. In his hand is a two-headed spear that Kyungsoo will never learn to master. He has no will to.

They begin with an exchange of bows, marking the beginning of their battle as well as accepting each as equal opponents, refusing to relent for status issues or otherwise. A clean battle, no tricks or dishonesty may permeate and ruin this sacred tradition.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, tasting the dusty air and the bated breath the audience holds. It reminds him of his first fight. It is an unpleasant thought. He hefts his weapons and braces himself for what to come.

They charge at each other until the clang of metal signifies the first contact. A duck, a roll, a parry, a feign. Rhythmic patterns as they dance with swords. Zitao is graceful in ways Kyungsoo will never be, like a tiger during his hunt. But Kyungsoo holds his ground. He is not to be overlooked or underestimated as a weak opponent.

He paves his breaths and attacks, calculating the ways to conserve his energy in hopes that Zitao weakens first. It is unlikely but he needs plans to win. Despite his involvement in expeditions he is hardly the top of his crop when it comes to battles as these. The lifted corner of Zitao's lips tell Kyungsoo that his plans have been read because the taller one pauses and takes his time to breathe.

Kyungsoo curses quietly in his head before sinking into a crouch, balancing himself upon the balls of his feet. Zitao grins and closes in on his prey. It doesn't frighten him in the least and waits until the other is close enough to start countering. Blocks set up with one hand while the other attempts to strike at vulnerable points. That is the advantage of a dual fighting technique. But Zitao's fame is not unearned. It takes Kyungsoo longer to navigate through Zitao's defense and predict patterns while laying down his own in order to ensnare the other. Sadly, it has been a while since Zitao has battled with Kyungsoo making it easier than those he is used to.

Kyungsoo sees a chink in the armor and has his dagger posed over the other's knee. He could easily slash through flesh, rendering the other's knee to come crashing into the ground in a half kneel position. Then he remembers that this is not the battlefield but a friendly combat between friends to display their skills. He halts and wills himself to back off. Instead, he lets the end of the spear come too close to his neck, raising his head so that the audience can see his defeat. There is no shame in this.

There was a time when he had yet to know what it as like to have a blade slice through flesh.

\--

He was fourteen when his brother embarked on his first expedition as one of the many companions on the prince's virgin expedition. All citizens rallied behind it, proud that their prince had come of age. His brother feigned nonchalance at the notion despite the constant wringing of his hands. Any man would be nervous. Especially if the company consisted of the strongest of their generation: Luhan with his deadly agility and innocent features coupled with Minseok's superior strength that could have an army cower at his feet.

Kyungsoo sent them off with a warm heart and multiple blessings.

 

They return after providing peace to a far off realm with three-fourths of the original army and a tired looking bunch trying to look cheerful. They have smiled plastered onto their faces as they haul in body bags by the cart. The citizens still cheer and thank the army for their duty in protecting the peace of the nine realms. The ceremony will take place tonight.

Kyungsoo scans the crowd. A sigh of relief escapes his lips when he sees his brother mounted upon a horse with his usual smile albeit wearied from the long journey. His eyes drift to their golden boy and he sees a smile thinly held by lips, verging upon another emotion. Worry courses through him as he wonders what had happened in the expedition.

There is a celebration at the palace and yet Kyungsoo can't find the spirit to attend. He only takes a glance at the extravagant party thrown in the prince's honor before realizing that the main star is not there tonight. The adults are far too drunk to notice. He slips out, into the courtyard where flowers still threaten to bloom and towards the gurgling of water.

The son of Kuohui is seated near the basin used for cleaning, still and stony as he stares at his own reflection. Kyungsoo finally exhales the breath he has held in since who knows when and hurries to the other's side.

He is busy rolling up the other's sleeve, trying to get rid of the dried blood when the other interrupts with a weak voice: "clean the blade first."

Kyungsoo spares a glance to the rapier still strapped on Yifan's side. He stills before replying, "No. That is your duty as its wielder." Swords remember each mark they make, each life they take, and each soul they reap. Beings may forget but swords are fated to remember. They learn after each shed of blood and forge souls of their own. This is why blades have names and why parents would much rather purchase a new sword for a child than an used one.

The cleansing of a blade soothes it. Yifan obliges and picks up his own sword, carefully removing it from his side before submerging it into the water before him. He starts to sing an old hymn, one for the prayers of souls in need of passing, one that puts them to sleep. It is an old song carried from generation to generation. Kyungsoo merely listens to the uneven breaths and the shaky notes as the prince cleans his own blade. He has no part in this ritual.

Finally, the other places his rapier down before attempting to clean himself. Kyungsoo does not step in until he sees the quivering shoulders hunched over the polluted water. He reaches for Yifan's fingers in hopes of prying them off the edge of the basin he is gripping too tightly.

"No!," the sudden exclamation startles Kyungsoo as the prince withdraws his hands. "Do not touch me."

It is then does the younger male understand the reason behind such actions. He reaches forward anyways; placing his hands on one of the future king's and draws it towards himself. He then places the hand on his cheek, trying not to flinch upon the contact. It is disgusting where the hand is still damp from washing the sword so that there is a layer of stickiness pressing against his skin and the odd texture of still dried blood. "See," Kyungsoo's voice is soft, "you are not sullying me."

Yifan dares a glance and Kyungsoo braves a smile. A sob slips through the princeling's lips and shoulders shake in companion. "I... murdered..." the words coming in fits and gasps, "individuals with families and friends. What if-" another choked sob. Kyungsoo scoots closer and directs the other's head towards his shoulders. He doesn't say that _things will be all right_ or that _you did the right thing to maintain peace_. Instead, he settles for running his fingers through golden locks of hair allowing his touch to speak volumes for him.

By the time he gets home after lugging the prince to bed and changing the royal head out of his dirty clothes, his brother was still up and milling about. He has large, dark circles beneath his eyes and Kyungsoo feels a pang of guilt for not being here to comfort Joonmyeon. He smiles that same sad smile and Kyungsoo finds his fingers entwined in his elder brother's shirt.

He follows Joonmyeon to bed that night, curling up beside his brother like when he was young, but imagines curling up with another individual instead.

\--

His back bends, trying to accomplish ninety degrees as Zitao echoes his actions, signifying the end of the match. It had been a good one since it has been quite a while since he has seen his friend's face. Or come in such close contact with him.

As if knowing Kyungsoo's train of thought, Zitao smiles at him. Kyungsoo would honestly not be surprised because of Zitao's abilities.

\--

Kyungsoo hears the footsteps of the intruder before he can even be seen - if the archer was looking. He had been absorbed in chasing his prey around, cornering it in a cruel game of cat and mouse. But because of his skills, he has been able detect slight changes in the atmosphere due to energy as well as the presence of other beings because of breathing patterns. If breathing patterns weren't obvious enough it would be the sound of footsteps.

Despite the other's attempts to mask his approach, Kyungsoo still aimed his arrow at the other man's head.

"What are you here for?" he demands but only gets a "I missed you too," in reply.

He had long identified the other individual from a long time ago. His even footsteps and not a breath off of beat gave him away. A perfection more than Kyungsoo will ever be.

"How have you been?" Yifan first attempts to break the ice.

"Well," Kyungsoo begins before reminding himself that he can give the truthful answer to Yifan.

"A bit lonely," he confesses. Yifan's smiles in an apologetic manner.

"Sorry for keeping your brother away for such a lengthy period of time," the prince says with a sincerity.

"It is not my brother I was talking about," Kyungsoo corrects with a slight frown, glancing at Yifan pointedly. It warns a blush that dusts his angled cheeks with pink. It is beautiful.

"And?" He continued after clearing his throat to spare Yifan embarrassment. "What about you?"

Yifan picks up the topic change gratefully. "Good. I've managed." Kyungsoo smiles at the thought.

"When is your next expedition?" he questions out of curiosity.

"After I have selected my own warriors." And it dawns upon Kyungsoo that his friend his nearing adulthood.

"Then you should head towards the training grounds." To announce such a sudden event and hold a tournament to select the best.

"Not before I recruit my archer." There is a devilish glint in the godling's eyes and Kyungsoo forces himself to swallow. "Will you, Do Kyungsoo, be willing to take up the role of the archer."

He gapes because he can't find anything more dignified in response. It is far too formal and- "Why must you jest?"

"I never jest," and the prince's expression is determined, emphasizing each word.

"There are better, more qualified ones out there," Kyungsoo protests meaning those with well-rounded skills in all fronts.

"Perhaps, but you are the most talented of your generation, are you not?" Such questions pose no answers to be permitted as an adequate answer. One day Kyungsoo will express his hatred for such statements.

He understands the implications of such a request. "But what of my brother, he would make a better companion." Because he is chosen, his brother will never be considered. Only one can serve for equality.

"He is an accomplished diplomat and counselor," a pause before he continues, "a counselor needs to stay with the council. I need an archer not a counselor." And on the future king's face is a smile that places too much stress on Kyungsoo's thin shoulders.

He complies before it becomes an order.

"What of the other members?" He questions to get his mind in some other place.

"I picked," Yifan declaring those he has in mind and even marking the pros and cons of each individual.

Kyungsoo has noticed that one friend was not brought up in the name of lists. "What of Zitao?"

The smile Yifan has on is quickly turned into snow, frozen on Yifan's lip. "The fates have ordained that Zitao is the next Watcher." Kyungsoo's smile falls too. It is an honorable task but a lonely one. At least Kyungsoo has Yifan to share the news with.

\--

Zitao can see all nine realms and all the souls within. He can also identify passed souls for there are some that shine brighter than the rest in the night sky. The immense power he possesses is reflected in the flecks of his eyes, as beautiful and stunning as the sky he beholds.

They step off the arena to make way for the next battle. One of his team, Jongin, and his childhood friend, Sehun, make their way to the center of the arena. When they are obscured from the crowd's view, Kyungsoo clasps his hands over Zitao's shaking it once. "Your presence has been sorely missed." He says and waits until a grin breaks across Zitao's handsome face does he leave his friend behind.

 

Kyungsoo chooses to go home rather than linger to watch his friends battle one another. He knows their strengths and weaknesses but would rather not watch his friends battle each other. It seems cruel in his eyes. Besides, he had accidentally overheard a rumor that has a stone settled in his stomach.

Joonmyeon finds him hours later in the same position. Back slouched against the wall so it is only rested tangentially with hands wringing themselves in his lap. His younger brother's eyes are a million miles away.

"Brother, are you not going to join in the festivities tonight?" Joonmyeon begins, hoping his brother's expression would change.

"The king," Kyungsoo starts and lets the words flow because he needs to know the truth. "He intends to announce the future of the prince," he states it as a fact hoping for retribution.

"He does," his brother confirms and Kyungsoo stomach sinks a bit more.

"Brother," the younger one finally manages to make out, "I cannot. Please understand."

"But he needs you." The grip on Kyungsoo's shoulder is tight and he nearly gasps out in pain until Joonmyeon realizes.

"I cannot," he repeats. "Please spare me, my brother." Joonmyeon relents and instead embraces his brother because it is the first times he's seen his younger brother in such a vulnerable state. He has always been as tough as nails despite his adorable features.

He leaves it at that and Kyungsoo is grateful. He tilts his head back to look at the expanse of stars in the sky. Then chooses to close his eyes in preference of memories of a happier time before arranged marriages were necessary and the inheritance of the throne loomed so close.

\--

"It is different from what you expected, is it not?" The tone is light and Kyungsoo turns to greet its owner.

"I suppose," he continues roasting the meat in the flames. The other settles down beside him without an invitation. But he doesn't need one to begin with.

Kyungsoo takes a quick peek at the vast canvas above their heads. The amount of stars makes it seem fake. Then turns his attention to the crew that is milling about. Jongin is engrossed with the task of setting up the tent, muscles flexing from the amount of exertion needed. Baekhyun is helping by holding the supplies the younger one needs and Yixing sits to the side, all alone, as he calculates the best path to their next destination.

"Why did you not select Luhan-ssi and Minseok-ssi to be amongst us?" he questions out of genuine curiosity and not the need to start a conversation.

"They are my father's men. I wanted my own," fists clench slightly before providing a reassuring smile. He had debriefed Kyungsoo about the pros and cons of each member here before. The younger male allows the conversation to slip back into silence, focusing all his attention on preparing dinner.

 

"I'll take the first watch," Kyungsoo announces when everyone's stomach are full and unable to consume more. He's not tired and the other members murmur their thanks before slinking into their tents.

Only Yifan stays behind as Kyungsoo settles against a tree, preparing to take the first watch.

"Mind if I join you?" It is only during the oddest times does the prince remember things like courtesy.

"No, not at all," because he has gotten used to the prince's presence over the years.

They find themselves side by side as the royal born starts to narrate the stars. That one is a hero and that one was a king, pointing out each and every brighter soul hung in the sky. One of Yifan's arms is behind his head for support as they sprawl on the grass, staring up at the stars. The other one is pressed lightly against Kyungsoo's arm but the younger one makes no move. Instead, he prompts the older male with questions by pointing out another star and asking for the story behind that one.

They take up two shifts and are on the verge of taking up a third one when Yixing persuades them to rest for the sake of tomorrow.

*

The missions is quite a disaster. No amount of planning and calculation could have estimated the current predicament. Apologies are plenty upon Yixing's lips as they try to cut their way out of this mess. There are more soldiers than they had initially expected and no amount of talent can overcome a flood when there are only five individuals to begin with.

Jongin whips up a storm with his spear, merciless as the enemies fall to his feet. Baekhyun mills about with nimble feet. The only evidence of his work is the shocked expression when the head is detached from the neck. Yixing stands his ground with the elegant footwork of swordsmanship and his flourished movements, nearly on par with the prince himself. Except the prince lacks grace and Yixing lacks the cruel determination of a warrior.

Kyungsoo loses sight of them in the bloodshed, letting his arrows fly while he keeps track of them to tug them out of rapidly cooling corpses. It is luck when his back is bumped by another individual but instead of finding himself looking at the enemy it is the face of the future king. Without a word exchanged, they line their backs against each other. Yifan busies himself by spilling blood upon his rapier and Kyungsoo continues the rain of arrows. It is much more fun when it is on fire, basking in the anguish cries. Kyungsoo's arrows provide a warning and a wide birth for those who attempt to close in upon them and Yifan strikes down those who venture too near. They fall into a pattern as if they had done this countless of times.

No mercy for those who have decided to break peace for war.

Kyungsoo's breaths become more labored by the minute and he fears his team is tired out by now. Except they seem to has exhausted their enemies as well. A few, more intelligent, soldiers have long fled the battlefield and the commander can do nothing but surrender with the handful of men he has left.

Their robes and armor have now been drenched in crimson fluid, unable to distinguish their own from the enemies. If they had not experienced this countless of times, there would be one amongst them that would be retching.

Yifan and Yixing take the prisoners of war as the rest try to scrub the blood off their skins.

*

Kyungsoo finds himself in a familiar position once more. Actually this seems to be the pattern on every expedition and so he does not get up or address the other in any way when the taller male settles down beside him. Their hands are loose and on the side, within the distance of contact but neither dates to breach the point.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" The other begins and a smile somehow makes its way onto Kyungsoo's face.

"When is it not?" There is a chuckle that accompanies his remark and his heart swells at the sound.

"I wish," Kyungsoo turns his head slightly to see the other speak with his eyes closed, "time would stop."

"Why?"

"So that we could stay like this forever."

Kyungsoo sits up abruptly, eyes wide as he stares at the other individual, a chill makes its way up his spine.

"Kyungsoo..." Yifan is obviously startled and reaches for the younger one's wrist, placing two fingers against his pulse so lightly it does not seem to be a grasp.

"We cannot," Kyungsoo finally makes out fearing for them both.

"I know but-"

Kyungsoo cuts him off with a shake of his head. "We cannot. You have duties you must attend to." Responsibilities towards the entire nation and Kyungsoo tries to drown the implication with a thousand reasons why it cannot work. He’s long persuaded himself that he is content by being beside the prince. Why can’t the other find satisfaction in this fact?

"Kyung-" Yifan tries again but for the first time the archer is glad of Jongin's timely presence.

"My shift is up. Good night, your highness."

That was the last time they spoke before Kyungsoo went on leave.

\--

“I have merry news,” the king boasts as his voice resounds across the dancing hall. “Our prince is to take a wife!” The crowd roars with cheers and applause that fills the hall. No one notices how YIfan had nearly choked on his drink during the announcement. He had long expected it but not in such a public form as if this was the only way to force the prince to comply.

He can’t. Joonmyeon sees it in the clench of his fists and the tightness of his jaw. He takes a deep breath, coming up with plans to not have this end too ugly.

The princeling makes his way towards his father, respectfully whispering into the king’s ear until the voices become gruff with refusals.

“No!”

It is a good thing the orchestra is playing too loudly, effectively drowning out the prince’s outburst.

“You cannot force me to partake in what I am not willing to do, father.”

“Try me.” The king is as stubborn as he was in the past, perhaps even more so as Joonmyeon inches closer, trying to find a way to appease the both even though it was a lost cause to begin with.

“With all due respect, father-“

“Respect? You dare speak to me about respect after disgracing me in front of the court?” the king bellows apparently not aware that most of the court was too drunk to register the argument taking place.

“My answer is no, father. Deal with that as you may.” The prince’s voice is tight as he bows out of respect for the title of the king and walks off.

 

Kyungsoo takes in the dispute from the entrance of the courtyard, not quite sure why he is at the palace to begin with. Feeling as if he had intruded upon something private, he takes his leave by slipping back out into the gardens, making his way to the bench near the basin.

He stares at the reflection, glancing at those overly large eyes and the odd complexions that accompany it. It is odd to not see his quiver with all the feather tipped arrows peeking out from behind his back or the bow in his hands. Part of him wants to leave to recollect his belongings and just practice till he runs out of arrows, quiver running dry from an hour of aiming at random objects. He isn’t fond of shedding innocent blood unless it is absolutely necessary.

It doesn't take long before he hears a set of familiar footsteps making his way towards Kyungsoo’s hiding place. Except it really isn’t Kyungsoo’s. There is a pause in the steps, hesitation almost as the other stops. He hears a soft pluck and identifies it as a flower being severed from his natural habitat. The footsteps start up once again, this time more paced and less in a hurry until his reflection is visible in the basin before the younger male.

He turns his head to acknowledge the other’s presence. A red rose is held between fingertips and Kyungsoo isn’t quite sure how to react. He knows what it means and part of him wishes to reach out and take it, ignoring the way the thorns will cause him to bleed because he wishes to return the gesture. Instead, he tightens his fists and allows himself to say: “Do not woo me Yifan.” He watches the other’s face fall as he freezes his heart.

“Do not use the same methods that would have countless girls swoon at your feet or at least be wary of your presence. Do not use those learned techniques to sweep me off my feet using your courtly manners or dance methods. Do not show off trying to garner my attention because I am not some girl whose heart is so easily swayed by a flash of bright teeth and attention graced upon me. I will not blush like some schoolgirl earnest for your love.” Tone turns harsh at this point. “I am a man.” And with this his eyes turn soft. “I have seen all of that so I will not fall for your charming ways.”

“Do not woo me Yifan because you need not to,” his hands press against the sides of Yifan’s that are still holding out the rose, limper than before. His hands hardly encase the larger ones. “You had my heart for a long time.” Kyungsoo attempts a smile that only grows brighter when his words settle into Yifan’s ears.

“Then why?” The other implores trying not to have desperation seep into his tone, which only makes Kyungsoo smile sadly.

“Because we need your divine being on the throne.” It is for everyone, all the civilians of Asgard and for the nine realms they take care of. He grips the hand tighter and the other responds by placing his other one over Kyungsoo’s.

“I could-“ the other begins and Kyungsoo cuts him off with a shake of his head. He rather not have possibilities and what ifs permeate his resolution.

“In no world,” it comes out barely audible, “is this acceptable.” The sole heir to the throne cannot abandon it for the notion of love, leaving the throne barren. One cannot abandon all responsibilities and no world would take these hostages with tarnish to their name. Besides, Kyungsoo would have to reevaluate his tastes if he had fallen for such a fickle man without care for duties and responsibilities. He does not know that his fingers and tracing circles into the flesh of the other male.

“She’s a good girl. A strong one, worthy of you.” Kyungsoo is the first to break the silence that forms between them. Yifan’s eyes flicker up to catch and hold Kyungsoo’s glance. “You will come to like her,” Kyungsoo finishes with the utmost confidence in the world.

“I may come to like her but I will never love her.” And if Kyungsoo had the spare emotions to feel pity for the poor girl, he would. But he holds his tongue and watches as two hearts shatter because of the regulations of the world.

 

Two months after the friendly combat and the announcement, the prince gets married. The palace is even brighter with revelries in honor of their future king and queen. Kyungsoo does not spare himself from the merry making, getting himself far too drunk for his own good.

He soon finds himself bent over, hands clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl and retching his heart out.

\--

The first time he kills a man it is with his precise shot. The arrow is lodged deep within the man’s chest and Kyungsoo’s fingers tremble as he tries to free his weapon. No matter how horrid the enemy is, it deserves a proper burial.

He has to press his foot against the dead man’s chest in order to dislodge it but as he does so, he nearly throws up from the way the deceased squishes beneath his feet. Still soft and warm. Kyungsoo holds in his breath as he places both hands on the wooden arrow, tugging with all the might he could manage at that point. The dead man’s eyes are glassy and seem to stare at him accusingly.

_I had children. I had a wife. I had a family._

You deprived me of them. Robbed them of a happy family.

Kyungsoo’s hand goes to his mouth to cover it as his body heaves, only to realize that it is coated with fluids of the dead man. He stumbles backwards about to fall when stronger arms catch him. He does not need to look to know who it is.

The pair of hands set him down to stable the younger boy before setting off to complete the task Kyungsoo had began. He takes so much less effort to free the arrow from its prison and sets it at Kyungsoo’s foot. Hands wipe at his shirt to cleanse off the grit before placing it on Kyungsoo’s cheek that he only now realizes it is damp. The larger man’s body obscures Kyungsoo’s breakdown from view, keeping it private because he has never seen Kyungsoo like this before. Kyungsoo had always been strong and fierce, the one that protected, not the one that needed protection. But in a way this came as a sort of relief that Kyungsoo was like him as well.

The younger man shoves the one helping away in order to not sully royal robes, turns and allows his lunch to be regurgitated upon the ground. He continues with such violent heaving as if wishing to purge breakfast out as well. Yifan proceeds to clasp one of Kyungsoo’s hands while the other strokes the young boy’s back, hoping to soothe the process just a bit. In between breaks, Kyungsoo scratches at his own hands as if to rid it of all the cells that had been in contact with the murderous act. It takes all of Yifan’s strength to keep the young boy from scratching himself raw. Muffled sobs accompany the dry heaves and the prince does his best to comfort his companion.

He doesn’t utter promises that it will get better. He doesn’t say anything but continue the rhythmic pattern of rubbing the palm of his hand against the younger boy’s spine, the way the other had done for him three years ago.

\--

There is another individual helping him as he purges dinner delicacies along with alcohol, trying to regurgitate all his organs especially that useless heart of his. The other individual keeps Kyungsoo’s hair away from his face, running soothing circles upon his back as he drowns everything out except for labored breaths and silent tears.

A month later, he marries the girl who had helped him through that night.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit I am still plagued by these pictures from the 2014 calendar. [[x](http://dailyexo.tumblr.com/image/68983112232)][[x](http://dailyexo.tumblr.com/image/69582120323)] Sorry for the depressing fic. Happy New Year to everyone!
> 
> Horribly written epilogue linked here: [[x](http://dyoris.tumblr.com/private/71809672877/tumblr_mypd56oW3u1sgzjlv)]
> 
> As always, comments and kudos much appreciated!


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